


Hyperreflexia

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And some light promptis, Features rather large spiders, Gen, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: How did Prompto discover he could pull all those stealth moves in the first place? While training with Cor, a bit of pre-programming is uncovered quite by accident.Based on this awesome artwork by kaciart: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/161981403628





	Hyperreflexia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



They’re in the training hall, and the session’s dragged on for far too long, but Prompto isn’t focussing, because all he can think about is the fact that he really hates bugs. Like, _really_ hates them. This is mean, this whole thing. Just _evil._ But Cor won’t be swayed, so he turns to Noctis instead.

            ‘Back me up here, Noct.’

            Prompto motions hurriedly with his hand, but the prince isn’t having any of it.

            ‘Ah, no can do.’ And now he’s checking his phone. He’s probably hungry. It’s long past time for lunch, after all.

            ‘But Noooct…’ Prompto’s plea is unanswered, so he turns to Cor again. Cor tilts his head. A sign to _get on with it, boy._ He knows it all too well, but still he wants to stop. Give up. So he complains. ‘B-but, why’d it have to be _spiders?_ I – I really don’t like bugs. You know that!’

            ‘Spiders ain’t bugs, kiddo.’ Gladio’s lounging on the bench, chill as anything, despite the huge monstrosity scuttling inside the tank not five metres away. He’s smiling way too smugly.

            ‘Smart-ass,’ Prompto mutters. Then he flinches. He keeps seeing the creature skitter from the corner of his eye. It’s making his skin crawl. It’s unbearable.

            ‘Prompto, look. You can’t rely on your gun beyond the borders of Insomnia without  first knowing how fast your reflexes are.’ Cor speaks reasonably enough, and it’s not like Prompto doesn’t trust him. The man’s been more a father to him than his own father ever has.

            But why _this?_

            He’s backed into the corner, literally. He doesn’t want to step towards the podium. Doesn’t want to look inside the tank. Really doesn’t want that lid to come off.

            The door to the training room’s opening.

            ‘Nearly finished in here, are we?’ It’s Ignis, come to check on them.

            Suddenly it’s too crowded. Everything seems far too volatile and then Cor reaches forward, holds his hand, and gently, firmly, pulls him towards the podium. Cor’s saying something calming, reassuring, but it makes no sense with the scene and it’s not even all that bad but if it wasn’t a damn _bug_ he’d be fine, he’d be just fine. Cor’s about to hand him his gun and the grasp on his hand increases at the same moment the spider jerks its legs fervently; everything combined, it makes something trip out in his brain.

_No._

_Subdue._

            His free hand slides up, fluid as water, elbow slotting around Cor’s arm and using leverage to knock himself free of Cor’s grasp. The muscles in his legs are tightly coiled, all latent energy ready to spring free. His eyes are wide open and he hardly blinks. He’s too fast. And it’s strange: for the first time he feels like he truly fits his body. He’s wearing it like a suit of armour, manipulating it, watching it execute the commands he throws at it almost senselessly. He’s not in control, which is weird, because the way he’s moving is so skilled, so masterful, he feels like he ought to be.

            He jumps. Leg raised, knee hooking round Cor’s neck. The other leg wrapping round Cor’s trunk. Body’s centre of gravity shifting as he twirls round, pivots until Cor is knocked off-balance. The world tilts and his mind’s ripping out commands to his muscles like a drill sergeant and everything is so achingly loud.

            Then he blinks, finally. Seems like an age has passed. But he’s on the ground, and Cor’s head is between his legs. He’s somehow tackled the man to the floor.

            He feels a little dizzy.

            Cor taps out.

            ‘Okay, kid, you made your point.’

            ‘Oh! Uh…’ He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. His legs feel stiff, squeezed of energy. But deep within his chest, his heart’s still thumping all too fast and he feels wired. He extricates himself and Cor gasps, rubs his neck. It looks painful, and Prompto feels something alien settle in his stomach. He’s never been afraid of hurting others before. Never thought himself capable. What if he’d broken the guy’s neck? For a moment it’s almost hilarious, the idea that Cor the Immortal could be taken down by a panicked twenty-year-old with an irrational fear.

            ‘Yeah, does that answer your questions about my reflexes?’ He laughs, rubs the back of his neck nervously.

            Cor’s looking at him with real concern.

            ‘Oh, I think it answers a lot more than that.’

            Prompto’s smile freezes, then drops.

            ‘W-what do you mean?’

            But Cor says nothing. He’s thinking, and hard. It’s not too out of the ordinary – the man’s prone to falling into contemplation now and then. But Prompto gets a queasy feeling about it this time. At any rate, he gets the idea Cor isn’t going to make him fight the spider now.

            He pats down his clothes, then laboriously turns to the Prince and his retinue.

            Gladio’s staring at him in fascination, one finger poking his lip while he tries to analyse what just happened. Prompto suspects the Shield is running through every martial arts tactic in the book.

            Perhaps he’ll ask Gladio for a rundown later, since he himself doesn’t really know what just happened. It’d be cool if any part of that technique he just used has a real name.

            Ignis looks like he’s been struck by lightning. It’s not an exaggeration. Even his hair looks a little frazzled. Ah, probably doesn’t help that he already thinks he’s a bad influence on Noctis. Prompto bites his lip. He doesn’t want anything to affect his chances of accompanying Noctis to the Royal Wedding.

            Speaking of Noctis, oh by the gods, he looks delighted. He’s wearing the same expression he has whenever they’re playing a videogame and the main character unlocks their ultimate attack. Widest smile imaginable. He’s practically blushing. He’s impressed, no, _bowled over_. And if that doesn’t make Prompto feel even the slightest bit cool, he doesn’t know what will. All worries concerning the odd moment slip away, and he grins.

            ‘C’mon, Noct. Let’s go grab a bite.’


End file.
